


Reawakened

by CostumersDelight (CostumerDelight)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Blood Magic, Mighty Nein, Mollymauk lives, i'm still new at this site, lots of chapters to come, spoilers for episode 26-??, there will be chapters that deal with sex but those will be sorted out as separate links somehow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-01-20 16:29:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18528814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CostumerDelight/pseuds/CostumersDelight
Summary: It had been a number of weeks since he emerged from a grave for the second time in his life, but the soreness of laying still for about two weeks of death was difficult to get rid of, even in a comfy inn bed and after a number of baths to rid himself of the phantom grave dirt clinging to his skin.He remembered struggling to dig himself out of the ground and crawling in a direction, blind in the darkness of the moonless night, and with dirt caked over his eyelids.He crumpled into a heap, carding through his hair as it fell from his head into a pile in front of him. He fumbled on his person, finding a few pouches on his belt. From within one, he pulled out some cones of incense and a small tinder box, which he used to light the incense and set it in the hair, watching the small flame lick up towards him, one word repeating in his head:empty, empty.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter takes place during eps 27-30, when the Mighty Nein bury Mollymauk, to going back to Zadash and take 2 weeks in town to recover.

The rain pelted the ground, thin sheets of ice forming on the surfaces of anything not living, not warm, not moving. It was gray and stormy, lightning bolts streaking across the sky and barely lighting the dim afternoon. Among the flashes of light and dreariness, nestled to the side of two mounds flanking the road, an elaborately embroidered maroon silk robe was illuminated, drenched and iced over from days of snow and sleet rain. Below that, a mound of recently disturbed earth was piled, icy mud slowly seeping through the cervices of the pile before freezing solid and stilling.

Huddled under the coat, attempting to find shelter beneath the fabric, were two gnomes, carefully curled in upon each other to retain as much heat as possible. Neither were dressed for the inclimate weather, and were struggling to keep awake, shivering and slowly feeling the energy from their bodies drain as they were hit by more and more freezing rain.

One of them, darker skinned male with a shaved head, big bushy beard that was completely coated in ice, making the dark red hairs look silvered, raised his head and looked out over the earth, then whispered something to his companion. She, her black hair tied back up into a braided bun, nodded and whispered back, then detached herself from him and crept forward to the site, pulling something out from her pocket and whispering into it. A dull red glow shone from between her fingers, and she dropped the trinket onto the dirt, pulling a knife from her side and cutting into the meat of her hand.

Crimson blood dripped down her elbow, while more poured straight down onto the glowing medallion below, steaming in the cold air. The remaining color drained from her face as she completed her ritual, and before she could drop to the ground, her body dissolved into ash, mixing into the dirt and mud below. The male gnome stood and walked forward, checking the medallion, the distorted emblem of some god pulsating with the spilled blood over it. He whispered a few more words, slicing his hand and dripping some of his own blood onto the symbol. Once his blood mixed with the other gnome’s, he turned and ran, healing his bloodied hand as he absconded, disappearing into the sleet.

The rain and snow subsided, but the ground was still cold a week later, all evidence of the blood ritual gone but for the vague remains of blood, easily mistaken as typical for a roadside grave, and a circular indentation in the mud kept visible by the chill. Not typical was the hole that remained just a foot beyond the indent, vaguely body sized, and the tracks leading away; hands and knees for a way, onto feet, and disappearing as the ground became more solid and in the vague direction of the woods.

\---

The purple teifling groaned, rubbing the soreness from various body parts as he watched little bits of snow begin to fall outside the window. It had been a number of weeks since he emerged from a grave for the second time in his life, but the soreness of laying still for about two weeks of death was difficult to get rid of, even in a comfy inn bed and after a number of baths to rid himself of the phantom grave dirt clinging to his skin.

_He remembered struggling to dig himself out of the ground and crawling in a direction, blind in the darkness of the moonless night, and with dirt caked over his eyelids. As the ice holding it to his face melted against his rapidly warming body heat, he blinked the remains out and stared ahead, realizing there was a small wooded area he was already crawling towards, and carefully got to his feet, which were still heavy with disuse._

_He ran a hand through his hair, pulling away wads of purple strands as he did. He clenched them in his fist, eyes wide in terror, and darted off to the woods. He crumpled into a heap, carding through his hair as it fell from his head into a pile in front of him. He fumbled on his person, finding a few pouches on his belt. From within one, he pulled out some cones of incense and a small tinder box, which he used to light the incense and set it in the hair, watching the small flame lick up towards him, one word repeating in his head:_ empty, empty.

“Hey, you awake in there?” came a voice, followed by a heavy knock on the door, pulling him from his thoughts.

“Yeah, Balia, I’m awake, I just was taking a bit to get out of bed,” he called back, throwing the covers off himself and standing. He replaced his necklace of the Platinum Dragon, touching the blue gem on the top for a moment. A soft wash of arcane energy passed over him and he sighed in relief, casting a quick glance in the mirror.

A rainbow of colors on his skin slowly vanished, as if they were sinking into him. Notably, a large peacock tattoo that spread up from his shoulder, over his neck, and onto his cheek, faded, the red eye that seemed to glare at him in spite as he looked it over also vanishing beneath the surface of the spell. He mussed his hair quickly, getting it to settle a bit more.

He tugged a shirt on over his head, careful of his horns, and kept the pendant hidden within. He finished dressing and opened the door, meeting with a tall elf woman, long dark brown hair and skin the color of sturdy oak. It was currently pulled up in a braided bun, sitting snug at the back of her head. She hadn’t been waiting for him long, but she was still impatient as he closed his room door behind himself.

“I need you to watch the inn while I run errands,” she said as soon as the lock clicked into place and he pocketed his key. “I shouldn’t be gone for too long. Lunch is some dried fruits and cheeses, and jerky if anyone wants meat.”

“No problem,” he said with a smile, unphased by her gruff and business tone. “Am I preparing anything for dinner?”

“Just get some water boiling in about two hours,” Balia replied, starting towards the stairs. He followed her to the common room, where only one person sat eating a light breakfast. “Dinner is going to be poached eggs and beef stew, I need to get the eggs from the market and the beef. If you have time, start chopping the vegetables for the stew, but no beans tonight.” She shot him a look over her shoulder, the first smile she gave him that day. “Last time you nearly cleared the inn of all my patrons after that meal, tasty as it was, you stunk.”

“We never had an issue at the carnival with beans in beef stew, I promise you,” he laughed, patting her on the back. “But point taken, I will leave out the beans.”

“Good. Anyways, I’m off. I expect about three hours or so,” she said, pulling a ragged but warm cloak off the hooks near the front door and draping it on her shoulders. “If the snow starts sticking around more, I may not make it back until dinner, in which case just make a vegetable stew and have jerky on the side for meat.”

“You got it, boss.”

“Alright, Lucy,” Balia said, turning around to face him. He stood at mock attention, like the soldiers of Zadash who patrolled the streets outside, “hold down the fort. Dismissed!” He gave a flourishing salute and marched to the kitchen, the little show eliciting a chuckle from the lone patron on the other side of the room.

He marched all the way through the double doors leading to the back hall, employees only, and dropped the fake soldier bit, sighing a little as he turned to the first room, the kitchen. It had a large central table for food preparation, a woodstove that was already burning with a kettle on top, a hearth with a very low fire.

As he started in on his tasks, he kept feeling drawn to his memories, replaying them again and again as he had during the past few weeks.

_He woke up, scrambling from underneath the tapestry he had managed to drag back to the woods with him, gasping for breath. The smell clinging to the large swath of material was still earthen and full of the sting of iron blood. He groaned as he felt his sore muscles stretch uncomfortably with his movements. He had returned to the grave to see if there was anything to tell him who he was, and he found a note, unreadable to him from dirt and moisture, but also missing nearly all knowledge of written language._

_Something had spoken to him in his sleep, telling him to get up and go back towards the grave. Not a menacing voice, but startling all the same. With little to do or go off of, the bald tiefling stood and started a slow shamble towards his former grave. Before he was even halfway to the hill he had been buried up against, he felt more than heard the rumbling of the ground as a small caravan crested the furthest hill beyond the road. He ducked down behind the closest thing he could find, a large shrub, and waited for the caravan to pass._

_But it didn’t pass. It stopped, two covered carriages and one cart pulling off to the side. He was close enough to watch the second carriage door open, two humans stepping out. One wore robes of blue and gray, her brown hair chopped but for the top, which was long and pulled into a loose top bun. The other human looked at ragged as he felt, a dirty and worn duster with a scarf, and hair like flames._

_Movement caught his eye, drawing his attention to the empty cart behind the carriages. No, not empty, as bodies began to materialize out of the air, climbing out of the cart._

_A green man, barely the hint of tusks betraying his partial orcish heritage with tanned leather armor and red cords; a smaller green girl, a bit obscured by what he could only make out to be a doll face made into a mask, possibly a goblin. A very tall, gray furred man with pink hair and green armor, a staff with a large crystal as an unneeded walking aid; a blue tiefling in blues and greens with the hint of a white dress underneath, her tail hanging low and limp._

_They all moved to the red coat hanging up on a stick pounded into the ground, the one in blue robes holding out what seemed to be a deck to the tiefling. She pulled a card, they talked, and she set it next to the grave. He felt a little fondness for the group; they must have been the ones who buried him, and left him the note._

_A flash of movement caught his eye as a large woman, almost human in her looks with long black hair fading to white and gray leather armor, emerged from the cart and slowly walked to the coat. She fell to her knees and bent forward, like she was in pain. Everyone else looked at her with caution, the tiefling stepping forward._

_Suddenly she stood again with a shout, a primal roar and skeletal wings erupted from her back. The group took a step back from her, then the green man stepped forward, about to speak, but the woman turned over her shoulder for a moment._

_A rumble of thunder and streaks of lightning approached rapidly from the west, storm clouds billowing like an angry fire. She stalked off towards the storm, vanishing below the hills and disappearing from view._

_The gray furred man stepped forward and crouched to the grave, seeming to take a moment to look at it. He put his hand out, touching the gravesite, then sinking his hand into the dirt to his wrist._

The door jingled, bringing him out of his memories and he exited the kitchen, checking quick in a spoon that his tattoos were still covered by the magic of the pendant first. He first looked to see if the other patron was still present, but no one else was to be seen. So he turned his attention to the door.

“Welcome to the Silvered Sword, what can I--” He balked, stopping in his tracks as he stared at the person who had entered the inn. He was crouched to get through the door, but stood to a full seven-foot height, pink curls cascading down one side of his gray furred face from beneath a straw hat. The newcomer wore no armor, but he recognized the staff in the firbolg’s hand; now that he was close enough to see details, he could recognize the man’s race. One sleeve on his shirt spilled over his forearm and wrist, almost touching the floor. “You...”

“Hello, Mister Mollymauk Tealeaf,” the firbolg said, bright pink eyes smiling as he spoke, “may I talk with you for a moment?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caduceus and Mollymauk have a talk about what happened when the Mighty Nein returned to Molly's grave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as an FYI, i may not update this regularly. I can try to, but life gets in the way a lot.
> 
> Warning: the last paragraph is wet dream aftermath.
> 
> [This is the last chapter, as the file I was writing got corrupted and the direction this was going wasn't where I wanted it to go and I couldn't reign it back in. Apologizes.]

Mollymauk brought out the water kettle, a couple of cups, and an assortment of dried fruit and cheese to sit with the firbolg, who had introduced himself as Caduceus Clay. Both men were quiet as Caduceus pulled out a small pouch from his pockets and spooned what looked to be leaves, flowers, and other vegetation into the kettle to steep. 

After a few silent moments passed, Caduceus checked the tea, then began to pour it for them both. When he set the kettle back down, he looked at Molly and seemed to wait. 

“You wanted to talk?” he said quietly, glancing over at the door. He expected any moment for Balia to return, even though he knew she was still supposed to be out for at least another hour. “What about?” 

“You, primarily,” Caduceus replied. He picked up his tea and sipped at it. “This is a very good blend from my home.” 

“I don’t doubt it, but I don’t drink tea that often.” He still picked up the cup and sipped, surprised how sweet it naturally was. “You’re right, this is really good.” 

“Thank you,” Caduceus said with a soft smile. “So, I see you remember who you are.” 

“Of course; after what you did at my grave everything came back,” Molly scoffed. “What was that, by the way?” 

“I actually didn’t do that,” Caduceus said, “which is what I wanted to talk to you about.” 

_The gray and pink man looked to the side, at the hidden purple tiefling behind the bush. Before he could try to hide more, he felt a tingling below him, and wave after wave of divine energy wash over him, up from his feet. In seconds, he had flashes of memories burst through the fog of his mind:_

_A similar waking experience from the dirt, clawing and raking earth through his fingers; Gustav, the ring leader of the circus, officially declaring his name to be Mollymauk Tealeaf; the performance in Trostenwald where he met all the people he had just been spying on but the gray and pink man; the incident with Kylre, the Devil-Toad that he had previously considered to be a friend; leaving Trostenwald with the group and travelling with them; going to Zadash and taking on a job from the Gentleman; the fight with Lorenzo and his death._

_That last memory sparked him to open his eyes, breathing out, a large puff of hot breath rising from him in the cold air. He bolted up; at some point he had fallen onto the ground, and for some amount of time, as his clothes were covered in a layer of snow, which shifted as he began to stand. He fumbled in his jerkin for the note he had been left with in the grave, carefully pulling it out to look again._

_Of course he left a note. Who else would have that forethought?_

Molly stared at Caduceus, eyes wide and mouth gaping open in shock and awe. Caduceus simply nodded, as if affirming his retelling of his part in the story, and sipped more tea. 

“You really think your Wildmother gave me back my memories?” Molly reiterated, watching Caduceus nod. “That makes no sense at all. Why would she do that?” Caduceus just gave a soft smile from behind his teacup. “You're helpful…” 

“The gods are difficult to understand. I'm not able to speak to her motivations,” he said softly, bringing his cup away, “but I trust she knows what she is doing.” He set it on the table and poured himself more, motioning to Molly in a question. He nodded. 

“So, how did you find me, then? Your Wildmother tell you where I’ve been working the last couple weeks?” he asked, quirking a brow as Caduceus poured him more tea. 

“In a way,” was the response, picking up his hat from the extra chair at the table. “I asked her for guidance today, as I had a dream regarding you a bit. I didn’t get any word from her until I was walking around for a bit and my hat here got taken by the wind. It landed just outside here, and I got the distinct feeling I was supposed to enter.” 

“She must talk a lot to you, then?” 

“Not particularly, just enough to let me know I’m on the right path,” he said, drinking more tea. “Well, that does conclude my business then, unless you had more questions for me?” 

“No, not really...” Molly muttered, one hand dropping to his thigh where the note hid in his pocket. He glanced down for a second, then back to Caduceus; his pink eyes gave a little twinkle and he began to chuckle. 

“That’s alright, then, I’ll answer it anyways,” he smirked a bit behind his cup. “Caleb is doing just fine, though he doesn’t say it aloud he does miss you.” Molly sputtered a bit. 

“I... b-but... How?? How did you know?” Molly stood up suddenly, knocking the table a bit as he did. Caduceus didn’t flinch. Molly paused for a few moments to relax, then sat down again, feeling his face flush. “Sorry about that... I haven’t told anyone about...us...” he muttered, taking his teacup in both hands and watching the swirl of steam rise from it. “So it was surprising you knew.” A tick of time, and he whipped his head up to stare at Caduceus, who lifted his hand at the same moment. 

“He didn’t tell me either, I just was able to infer a few things is all,” he clarified, a gentle smile on his face. “Caleb had said something about leaving you a note in case you did come back, so you wouldn’t forget who you are.” 

“Lot of good that did in the long run until you came along,” Molly laughed a bit. They were quiet for a bit, sipping at their tea. When the kettle was empty, Molly spoke up again. “Thank you, by the way, for letting me know. I stopped by Pumat to enchant this,” he said, touching his platinum dragon necklace with the blue and red gems, “so I can hide my tattoos and those gods-awful eyes all over me, and he let me know you all had come through earlier this week, and that he was okay as well. Am I that easy to read?” 

“Easier to read now than your previous life, based on what everyone has told me,” Caduceus nodded. “I would presume it is due to your additional memories this time around, even if they’re foggy still.” 

“That was my guess, yeah.” Molly sighed a bit, leaning onto the table. When he looked back up to Caduceus, he steeled his face. “So I hope you understand when I ask you to not tell him I’m alive.” 

The silence this time was not comfortable. Caduceus raised an eyebrow, setting his cup down on the table. Molly laced his fingers and leaned his chin on his hands, keeping eye contact with the firbolg. 

“As long as he doesn’t ask me, I will not tell,” Caduceus broke the line of sight first, dropping his gaze to the empty kettle. “I am actually a very poor liar, the reason I say it like that.” 

“No bringing it up yourself, then, if that’s the case,” he agreed, sitting back in the chair once more. “I have to figure out some of what’s happening. The one big thing I do remember from before is that whoever I used to work for as Lucien, he intends to go after anybody close to me if I fail whatever mission he sent me on. And everyone in the Nein is in danger because of it.” 

“I will certainly keep an eye out for everyone in that case,” Caduceus said softly, one of his ears twitching. “Your employer is returning it sounds like,” he hummed, finishing his tea and setting the cup down just as the door jingled open. 

“Lucy, I'm ba—” Balia started shouting, then saw the pair sitting at the table. “Oh, you’re out here. Welcome! You must be friends with Lucy?” she asked, extending her hand to Caduceus, who took it with a smile. 

“Yes, we met out of town a few weeks ago in passing, and I thought I would say a proper hello,” Caduceus explained. Molly smirked a bit; the firbolg really couldn’t lie, but he did just fine to obscure the exact truth. “My name is Caduceus. I may come by more often; this is a quaint inn you have here.” 

“Well thank you, I’m sure we will both be happy to see you come through,” she replied. “Want more tea?” 

“No, I do need to get going, one of my friends just asked me where I am,” Caduceus stood up, giving Molly a quick side-eye. “He uses magic, you see, a little spell to just send a little message and get a short reply.” He put his hat on and stepped around Balia, giving Molly a shoulder squeeze as he passed. “I’d better go catch up to him. Thank you for the tea, Lucy, and I will hopefully see you again.” 

“Yeah, see you around,” Molly said, watching as Caduceus crouched out of the doorway, the bell jingling again. Balia headed back to the kitchen to drop off her parcels, so Molly chanced heading up to the door to peer out, hoping to catch a glimpse of the message sender; he knew it had a certain proximity to work. He did see Caduceus stop for a moment to talk to someone, just out of sight, and then turn, still facing his companion that he couldn’t actually see behind the firbolg’s large form. 

But the cat trailing behind them was all he really needed to see to know that it was indeed Caleb; Frumpkin, the wizard’s Fey familiar, would follow him anywhere and in any form he was summoned into. Molly smiled softly, Frumpkin’s tail swishing through the air letting him know that Caleb was actually in a good mood. The cat suddenly turned to catch his eyes, his mouth opening in a meow. 

Molly ducked away as Caduceus stopped to look at Frumpkin, catching the quickest glimpse of Caleb’s tattered coat in view. He picked up their tea dishes and brought them back to the kitchen, humming softly to himself. While he wanted to see Caleb himself, Frumpkin was a close second. 

“Ready to get to work, Lucy?” Balia asked, pulling the eggs out. “This isn’t a terribly difficult meal to make but it takes some time to cook for the stew.” She tossed him a knife and got to work peeling potatoes, Molly catching the knife and going in on the rest of the vegetables. 

Molly had introduced himself as Lucien to Balia, the owner and operator of the Silver Sword Inn when he had arrived in town. When he travelled with the Nein, he had seen it once or twice in passing on his various strolls, and it was tucked away well enough that the average adventurer wouldn’t normally seek it out. He was coinless, the periapt he had bought from Pumat was gone, and his tarot cards were missing but for the Moon card he had retrieved from his grave. Molly only had his carnival scimtars, his travel pack, and the Platinum Dragon tapestry that weren’t on his person. He had scanned the note after coming to, but didn’t read the full note until after striking a deal with Balia to work for her in exchange for room and board. 

Once he had gotten settled into his new lodgings for the foreseeable future and reorganized the room to his liking – the bed under the window, the desk and vanity on the other side of the room – he settled in with a lamp and opened up the note again, curious to what the wizard wrote to him.

> _Hello. Your name is Mollymauk Tealeaf, and you are a member of the Mighty Nein. We are very sorry, but you fell in battle with Lorenzo of the Iron Shepards. ~~You actually did do it yourself but he dealt the fatal blows but that is neither here nor there~~ Beau said I should not write that. _
> 
> _We are heading north to Shady Creek Run to retrieve the rest of our party, Jester, Fjord, and Yasha, as well as avenge your death and complete the job we were sent by the Gentleman to do. ~~I hope that the job is to kill Lorenzo Nott said that it is bad to hope to have to kill somebody. Normally I do not hope for such things but this is a differe~~ Beau told me to make the note short. Sorry. _
> 
> _~~Beau took your fancier sword, your coins, cards, and your periapt. I think she intends to give that to me because I am, as they remind me, squishy. Nott would not take anything from you because of what you told her the other da~~ _
> 
> _Short note, short note. Sorry. If you should wake, seek us out in Zadash in the Empire. We will be at the Leaky Tap, or the Pillow Trove in the Trispire. We will have a lot of ale to celebrate your return._
> 
> _~~Sincerely Yours truly  
>  From Your Friend ~~ _
> 
> _Caleb Widogast_

Molly squinted at the crossed-out portions of the note, barely able to make out the written letters. He smiled softly, refolding and pocketing the note before settling into bed, warm fuzzy feelings in his chest. He let his mind wander as he drifted off to sleep, the first sweet dreams he’s had since he awoke from the grave. That next morning, he sported a relatively large wet spot in the sheets and he smirked to himself, then realized he would have to clean it up as the new employee. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Like what I wrote? Want me to write a drabble for you? Support me on ko-fi at https://ko-fi.com/costumersdelight !

**Author's Note:**

> Like my writing? Have a drabble you want written? Please support me at http://ko-fi.com/costumersdelight !


End file.
